Cabbie
by P.A.W.07
Summary: Simmons had been playing with the energy of the Allspark for years before the Autobots; bringing Nokia's to life left and right just to watch them squeal. Sadly, the Allspark had a sense of humor and now Reggie has a problem. No, it's more a curse. '07 verse. One-shot.


Cabbie summary: Simmons had been playing with the energy of the Allspark for years before the Autobots; bringing Nokia's to life left and right just to watch them squeal. Sadly, the Allspark had a sense of humor and now Reggie has a problem. No, it's more a curse. '07 verse. One-shot.

Disclaimer: If only, if only, the little plot bunny sings.

Image: Taxi by MurphyL6

Rating: Teen.

_The Allspark huffed and turned his head_

_Perhaps you'll wish that you were dead_

_But as irony is such and simply said:_

_You're fucked, now raise your head_

The laundry was left undone.

The bathroom was in shambles.

The dishes in the sink had taken up a green thumb.

The windows had decided to shun light with a nice layer of dirt.

The fern was dead.

And there was a corpse on the couch.

Oh wait, scratch that last one. It only looked corpse like.

Banachek walked forward, his black shoes slowly dragging themselves ahead through the chaos as if being wary of land mines. He wasn't even sure why he was here in this horror show daring to call itself an apartment. He wasn't even really the guy's friend. They were what a person would call a frien-emies. They were neither friends nor enemies, but since Banachek found himself here at all he supposed that he was considered a friend. It was kind of hard to swallow since no one much liked Simmons. It wasn't that the guy was evil or anything, it was just that he had … social issues. Yeah that was the best word for it. Simmons never really socialized with any of the agents. It was like he was consumed by his job, heart and soul. Banacheck could recall times when the other agent would spend hours in the Allspark-energy room, experimenting with the energy of the Cube as if its electricity was his blood and to be parted with it would kill him. Well, now that he thought about it … maybe Simmons was dying. Not really from the lack of the Cube but from the lack of the job. That's why he was here.

Pulling away from his thoughts and the fact that he had broken into the apartment, Banachek looked around. There was very little light that had managed to penetrate the room that wasn't blocked by his hulking form as he stood in front of the television set; not that it was on, but that seemed to be the general direction those glassy eyes were staring in. Ugh, maybe he was dead.

"Reggie … you are Reggie Simmons, right? The Reggie I knew wasn't a victim of such depressions or … hygiene, or lack thereof it in your case," said the government employee as he leaned forward slightly, poking the body to see if it really was dead. The 'corpse' in question merely groaned and rolled over, covering his head with a pillow.

Why wouldn't the world just leave him to die in peace?

"Go'h away'h," said a voice from below the pillow. "Just leave me to die'h."

Banachek merely shook his head, sitting at the other's feet on the couch where he cringed slightly upon the sight of Reggie's socks. Then, making sure not to touch the horror that was the ex-agent's socks, the suited man patted the barely clothed being on the leg, "There, there, Reggie. Being laid-off from a job is considered one of the top three most stressful and depressing things to happen to an adult. What you're feeling is … ugh … normal. What's not normal is not looking for another job when it's already been six months."

_Ugh, this was awkward. _

Reggie pulled his pillow off his face and frowned, "How would you know what I'm feeling. You gave into those … NB's … without even blinking your eye."

The old frien-enemy glared for a minute before he pulled out his new badge to stare at it; an Autobot symbol looking up at him along with the letters AHR. Then, turning back to his old friend he said, "First off, they are called Autobots, and you were offered a job as well if I recall correctly."

"Never," growled the man like a child. "I'll never give into them."

Banachek looked at the man with an irritated expression, his brow furrowing, "What do you mean never? I know you've applied to every possible government body you could, and they all denied you, mostly because none of them knew Sector Seven existed, meaning they were all lower ranking positions. Stop being stubborn and just take the job that was offered to you like a man. Besides, I don't think anyone but you can … ugh … handle the twins."

"Who … I mean: never!" gurgled the man as he threw the pillow, the other man catching it with ease as he rose to his feet.

"Quit being so childish. You were a Sector Seven agent for Primus-I mean Christ's sake. Now get up, take a shower, get dressed, I'll call a maid for you, and then you'll come with me. We can't keep your position open for much longer," said the AHR agent as he rose to his feet, offering a hand to the slob still melted to the couch.

Simmons sat there a minute, just staring at the other man's hand as if angry with its appearance. He slowly sat up in a more dignified and proud manner, despite the fact that he had five a clock shadow. He sat there a minute more, his rage slowly growing into his features like vines. Then he stood up, sidestepping the offered hand as if it were infected, and stood in front of the window. Staring out at the street he started to speak, "I can't do that. You don't crush a person's dreams and expect them to forget it. Sector Seven was everything to me, Banachek … everything. That government body and my family have been intertwined like vines. I remember my father showing me how to use the Allspark's energy when I first became an agent. It was as if a part of me died when the government gave that proclamation for Sector Seven's shutdown. So my long unemployment may seem strange to you, but it feels as if someone has cut off my hands."

The man then dropped his head, sorrow evident. Simmons turned and stated simply, "Besides, my pride won't let me work for the metallic menaces. I just know that yellow camaro is going to mock me in every way possible and maybe even lubricate on me again. You are right though … I need a job."

The other man sat there, a little surprised that Simmons had said the truth behind his actions so simply, but not terribly surprised by it. Simmons always had a valor for his employment that no other agent could ever wish to ensue. Sector Seven had been a passion more than a job to the broken man before him. It was a sweet pride … and now it was dead. A part of Simmons was dead like he had said. Banachek ran a hand over the pocket with the AHR badge in it and glanced pointedly at the man before him. He knew he had promised Senator Kelly and even Optimus Prime that he would drag the man in if he had to be kicking and screaming, but maybe there was another way. Mind games were something Simmons and he always seemed to like playing.

"Well, let's look at what you enjoyed about being an agent and maybe we can find you another job," said the suited man, a slight grin on his face as he thought up some quick manipulation. "There was danger, adventure, and bad human relations. It was always fast paced as well, and never boring … something involving cars?"

Simmons turned to face him, glare returning. He knew every word his company had just said had been related back to a job of babysitting the Autobots. What? Did his old friend think his mind failed with his hygiene? Please. He'd rather go work in his mother's shop.

"You're going to have to try harder than that Banachek. You just described what you think the Autobot's job will contain. I'm making a bet it will be nothing more than endless paper work and cleaning up the Autobots' messes. Doesn't sound like my kind of job, so let me show you to the door," said Reggie as he pointed towards the door.

The Agent stared at the man lazily, and then, without even a warning, Simmons found himself being kidnapped out of his room. It had happened so fast that he didn't even know how the other agent had managed to get him in a fireman's carry, but he had.

"What the hell are you doing!" said Reggie as he hanged there over the other man's shoulder, staring at the passing tiles. "I'm not taking the damn job, you hear me!"

"You need a job, Reggie. You are going mad without a job," said the other agent, his thumb slamming onto the down button for the elevator. A moment later the door opened. For a second, the agent stood there and blinked, his eyes stuck on the old lady that was looking up at him in horror. Finally coughing away his nervousness and trying to hide a blush, Banacheck stepped into the elevator saying a meek, 'excuse me maam'.

There was a minute of awkwardness, the elevator music playing, and the old woman tightening her fingers around the top of her purse, her eyes wanting to look over at the two men but unable too. Finally, daring to look at them, Simmons's waved his hand from his shoulder perch and said, "Hi, Mrs. Douglas. How are you today?"

The woman's eyes widened as she peered at the ex-agent for a minute, squinting through her glasses before she answered in an old voice, "Reggie, is that you?"

"Yes, in the flesh," said the man. "And this is my kidnapper, Agent Banacheck. Agent Banacheck this is Mrs. Douglas. She lives on the floor below me."

"Hello," said the agent nervously, giving an edgy smile before directing his attention back to the door. He seemed to glare at if for the next minute as if threatening it to open now or suffer the consequences. A minute and a half later, there was a ding, and the kidnapper rushing out as quickly as he could towards the front exit with a hundred plus pounds on his shoulder.

Simmons merely waved goodbye to the homely old woman, crying out, "Feel free to call 911. Mrs. Douglas!"

Banacheck merely slapped Reggie in the back of the leg for the comment, gripping as he stepped out into the light, Simmons hissing as if the light was biting him. He hadn't been out in the sun in over a week. It was then, as his sight started to return that he tried to look forward and over his ass to see where they were heading. A long groan escaped him when he saw a military jeep silently waiting for them at the curb as its engine started. That was not a military issued jeep! Christ no. Not another one! They would never take him alive!

Growling, Simmons made his hand into a fist and brought it down rather violently down near Banacheck's lower spine. The Agent cried out at the sudden attack and both the men went down in a heap of limbs. They both merely groaned at first, the agony of slamming down hard on cement coming to full swing. Then, smelling escape, Simmons tried to crawl away on his belly, but a hand lashed out and grabbed him by the ankle though, Banacheck glaring at him.

"Let me go! I'm not going to get into one of those things," said the man with a hiss, trying to kick the grip off. He couldn't help but still though when the engine of the 'driverless' jeep roared to life. Sighing, and accepting a slight defeat, Simmons stated, "I'll find my own job, okay. Just don't make me get into one of those … things!"

"No … you are getting this job. Now get in the vehicle," said Banacheck as he let go of the leg and started to get up, dusting off his perfect suit as he did so. "Or wait … enlighten me. What else are you going to do for a job? Sell your good looks? Tell me now or I'm throwing you in the car!"

Reggie's eyes got wide, and he eyed the jeep wearily. He needed an idea and fast. There was no way he was going with Banacheck, his pride wouldn't allow him. There had to be something, anything that could give him an idea. Okay, okay there had to be some inspiration nearby. There was a hotdog stand, a mailman, meter maid, a … ugh … there it was. Yes, that would do nicely. Simmon's worried expression become a grin and he rose to his feet, stating simply, "You know what, you are correct, and I have the perfect idea for a job," said the man as he grinned down the street. "I always heard life was exciting as a cab driver."

"W-what!" said Banachek suddenly stopping his dusting session, grabbing the other man by his shoulder while checking for a temperature. "Are you mad! You are an agent with the collective knowledge of many a horrible government secrets! You c-cant just become a cab driver!"

Simmons stared at the other man and then at the still people on the side walk. He slowly pulled in closer towards the ruffled agent, whispering, "You really shouldn't have yelled 'horrible government secrets' to the sky in front of people."

Banachek ground his teeth and then whispered back, "Yeah, you're right. That wasn't very … keen. But you are still coming with me."

"Well, first you got to catch me," snickered Simmons and then he took off, like a mad man.

Oh yeah, this was a dumb idea. There was no doubt about it, but he was so slaggen tired and depressed of everyone else's crap, why the hell not? He would not be working for one of those NB's. Besides, he was sure if he held out long enough, Senator Kelly would just give and offer him a job in the FBI away from NBs. After all, a man with his secrets couldn't just be allowed to wander the streets … or drive them in this case. He was going to get his pride back and there would be no Autobots in that equation. He'd disappear if he had too. No, he would not be forced into those aliens' company.

For a minute, the other agent just stood there, confusion wiped on his face, but as the crowd departed, a soft voice rang from the jeep park at the curb, "Agent Banachek, I am quite a tracker; I could find him rather easily."

The agent shook his head, a small grin slowly rising on his face as he walked over to the jeep, the door opening. The tires moving before the black-clothed man even had time to shut the door.

"Don't worry about it, Hound. He'll get bored with that. It's just a mattered of time," said the agent as the vehicle pulled out into the street. "Why does Optimus want him so bad anyway?"

"Honestly, I have no idea. He seems rather mad to me … even for a human."

XXX

Paw07: Sorry I had to; it was such a different idea that I couldn't stop my fingers. Really I tried. What's so wrong with Simmons anyway? I mean he's an interesting character and adds color to the film, so why are people making him ultra evil all the time? At least, before the sequel that was a fan favorite. Well, except for some rare fics like Flamedancer23's **All in the Job** fic. Man, I loved that one. Regardless, I think I originally had this up, but it got deleted or something. Perhaps I took it down because I never could write the following chapters. Regardless, I love this story and even though I may never get to the following chapters this chapter obviously hints to, I at least wanted to throw this chapter out once again as a one-shot … especially since this story helped inspire the coming sequel to Promise Not to Tell.

Yeah, you heard me. I'm finally getting around to that. Later!


End file.
